


selfish

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: Killers for Hire (SkyeWard AU) [17]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, F/M, Killers for Hire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4873093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>skye and grant celebrate an actual anniversary (since they actually got married a year ago, what?) and, you know, grant gets what he's always wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	selfish

“Do you know how many restaurants in Macau have three Michelin stars?” Grant asks. “Just guess.”

Skye slings her hand under her chin. “Dunno.”

“Skye,” he says. “You’re supposed to-” She gives him a look, and he sighs. “Two. There are two restaurants in all of Macau with three Michelin stars.”

She’s got this smug little grin on. It’s driving him up a wall. “So?”

“So,” he says. “This is a very special, expensive restaurant, and the chefs here work their asses off to make like, the fanciest shit imaginable. And I got you-”

“Stole me-”

He gestures. “I stole you that dress, which is Gucci, by the way-”

She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “It pinches.”

She’s needling him. 

He just sighs. “You ordered french fries.”

She bristles. Fixes the top of her dress, which she’s been spilling out of all night.

So maybe it pinches. He got the wrong size! He couldn’t exactly ask the manager.

Her boobs do look fucking amazing, though.

“I wanted fries!” she says. The original course of discussion, before boobs came up.  “I wanted fries and a burger.”

“Yesterday you wanted to do something fancy!” he says. “And we’ve been married for a whole year-”

She groans. Loudly. Without stopping. “That’s so loooong,” she says. “I’m so old. I’m so booooooring.”

“I can’t believe this,” Grant says. “I mean, I can believe it. I can’t believe I actually thought you wouldn’t order a goddamn burger and fries-”

“Well what was I supposed to order?” Skye says. “Fancy... prawn... things?”

“Maybe!” Grant says. “You’ve never even had fancy prawn things! You may like it!”

“And when did you even get so fucking fancy,” Skye says. “I mean, you barely even wear a shirt, half the time-”

“Because you ripped all my shirts! You ruined like, fifty percent of my wardrobe and-”

“Don’t blame me! Wear shirts that aren’t from the fucking baby section of Target, or wherever-”

“You know I don’t shop at-”

“And there’s that fancypants bullshit again, like I know you grew up rich but for real, I haven’t seen you be fancy like, ever, so-”

“I don’t even know why I bothered holding the owner’s brother hostage for this, you are a nightmare of a person and-”

Skye blinks. “You’re holding the owner’s brother hostage?”

He’s still frowning. “I couldn’t get a fucking table otherwise!”

“You did that for me?”

He accidentally gets caught in her big, brown eyes. “I’d hold anyone hostage for you, Skye.”

Half a sincere smile. “Aw,” she says. “Grant.”

She offers her hand. Not a very Skye gesture. He’s quick to lace his fingers against hers before she changes her mind.

 

 

A pause. A strangely odd, almost romantic moment. He brushes her fingers (scarred and small) with his thumb (scarred. Not small.) “I brought your present.”

She loves things. She does. He loves the way her face lights up.  The fact that she’s nearly twenty-nine and still manages to be entirely selfish in her glee. “Give it!”

He grins, and reaches under his seat. “Try to be quiet,” he says, sliding the long box across the table.  “It’s not exactly restaurant appropriate.”

She takes the box into her lap.  “Is it a gun?” she says. “I love guns. Is it a baby Desert Eagle?”

A quirk of the eyebrow. Just open it.

She tears off the lid and tosses it over her shoulder.

It hits the person behind her. She couldn’t care less.

And really, neither could he. Not when her eyes have gone so wide and so bright.

She puts her hand over her mouth and squeals.

“Skye!” Grant says. “Sh!”

She squeaks. “Sorry.”

“So you like it?”

She nods.  “Where did you get it?”

“I have connections,” he says. “Friend of a friend.”

Despite Grant’s pleas, she gently lifts it out of the box. Like a baby. More gently than Skye would lift a baby, probably.

It glitters in the restaurant light.  “My very own cartel gun,” she says, sniffling. “With my name on it in crystals.”

“All for you, kid,” Grant says. Which feels too genuine and too sweet. And gooey. And nice.

But Skye’s bouncing in her seat, hugging a crystal-covered firearm to her chest. And how could he not be utterly, totally in love with that?

“Your present is back at our place,” Skye says. “I got it ready, cause you were out all day.”

He chuckles to himself. “I didn’t think you’d get me anything.”

A gasp of faux-offense. “I’m a great gir- Wife!” She kicks him under the table.

Which. Ow.

“You didn’t even remember our anniversary!” Grant says.

“Because I’m not a sad sap like you,” Skye says. “But I did get you something, since you reminded me.”

He tilts his head. “Is it sex?”

She smirks. “A little.”

“Perfect,” he says. “Put your gun away. I’m getting the check.”

“I named her Skye Junior,” Skye says. “She’s perfect.”

“Wow,” Grant says.

“Shut up,” Skye says. “Just be happy I like it so much.”

“Right,” Grant says. “Obviously.”

 

\--

 

“Look!” Skye says, dragging him into the apartment. “I had to look everywhere for this, because it’s not even Easter season so I had to go down to this little store and you know my Canto is like, shit, but I got it and-”

She’s gotten him a gift basket.

She bought him a basket. That’s what the challenge was.

He blinks. “I-”

“Look in the basket, stupid.”

“Oh!” he says. “Oh. Right.”

It’s kind of a mess in there.

“Ta-da!” she says. He can feel her grin. Imagine that she’s just spread her arms out, because she’s so damned proud of herself.

Typical Skye.

“You got me-” He brushes his hand over the contents of the basket. “Ammo. And hair gel.”

She wraps her arms around his waist. Presses her nose into his back. “Do you love it?”

It’s so... her. Exactly what she would get him. “Yeah,” he says. “I love it.” And that’s the funny thing. It’s exactly what he would have wanted, if he’d been thinking about it.

He’s never really gotten gifts.

She squeezes him. And he barely even lets out an “oof” noise when she does. “I have another thing,” she says. “The sex thing. That I promised.”

A grin. “Oh?”

She stands on the tips of her toes. Brushes her lips on the shell of his ear. “I’m gonna suck you off, baby.”

 

He-

He gets embarrassed.

Not- Not because of what she says. He’s not fucking seventeen.

His dick doesn’t seem to know this. But he does.

He does!

He didn’t mean to just pop a boner like that. He didn’t. And Skye is rubbing the front of his pants and laughing at him, like this isn’t her fault.

“Skye,” he says. Almost whines. “You mean it?”

She squeezes. “I mean it.” Kisses his neck. “Loser.”

“Skyeee-”

“God,” she says. “Why do you even like it so much?”

“Because you never do it!” he says. “And you’re so good at it.”

“I’ve got many talents,” she says.

“That one’s my favorite.”

She pokes him in the side. “Don’t be rude.”

“It’s how I was raised,” he says. Tilts his head back. “You like me rude.”

And she hasn’t stopped rubbing her hand along him. So it’s not like she’s disagreeing.

“You’re such a jerk,” she says. “I can’t believe we got married.”

“Right,” he says. “Because you’re a gem.”

“I am a delight,” she says.

“Course you are,” he says. Takes her wrist. “Come on. I want it in front of the windows.”

“Oh my God,” Skye says. “Grant, that’s so-”

“What?”

“You’re so weird.”

He scoffs. “It’s like, base level exhibitionism.”

“Right,” Skye says. “My mistake.”

“Besides,” he says. “Don’t you want to give the best present ever?”

“It’s the best present ever because it’s my mouth,” she says. “Duh.”

“Come ooon,” he whines. And he sounds remarkably like her, which probably just means she’s a bad influence. “I want all of Macau to know I’m getting a blow job.”

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I should’ve rented a blimp.”

“Yeah you should have,” he says.

“You asshole,” she says.

He laughs. Happily falls into his chair. “I knew putting the chairs here were a good idea.”

“Because it pulls the room together!” Skye says. “And we get a great view of the city. Not because I was gonna blow you here.”

He’s already undoing his belt. “Bygones.”

A knowing look. “You’re so easy.”

“I prefer sexually adventurous.”

“He says,” Skye says, pulling on his pants. “After being married for a year.”

“Marriage is the best,” Grant says, decidedly. “Because now we can do all the weird stuff.”

She brushes her hair out of her face. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m horny, actually,” he says. “Want to do something about it?”

“Of course, baby,” she says, with a faux sweetness that would normally worry him. “Anything for you.”

“Don’t bite me,” he says. “I mean, not without warning.”

She sticks out her tongue. “Fine.”

“Thanks so much,” he says. “Now-” He gestures. “Don’t you have...?”

“See,” Skye says. Runs her hands along his inner thighs. “This is why you never get one of these.”

“If I got them more often, I’d be less desperate.”

“Please,” Skye says. “Desperate is your middle name.”

 

 

He shakes his head. “You’re so-”

She kisses the head.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, I didn’t- Are we?”

Digs her nails into his thighs. Grins. “Stop talking.”

“Right,” he says. “Right. Sorry.”

And there’s a certain smugness to her. Brought about only by the fact that she makes him utterly weak and helpless when he’s never been either.

But fuck if he doesn’t want this.

She kisses again, more gently.  The tip brushes against her bottom lip. “You know,” she says. “You are actually pretty big.”

“I-”

“No talking.” She giggles to herself. And he can almost feel it. Just almost. It’s enough for a low whine in the back of his throat.

She spreads his legs wider. And he should’ve kicked off his pants, he should’ve, but-

She sucks him into her mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he says. “Skye-”

Nails. Nails on his skin. No talking. Talking is bad. And this- She bobs her head just a little, just along the length she’s taken in. Her mouth is so warm and she’s going so slow-

She pulls back. Brushes her tongue along the head.  Her hand moves from his thigh to his-

“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, sorry, you’re just- You-”

She licks a stripe along his underside.

“Goddamn it-” He gently takes a hand full of her silky hair. “Sorry.”

She bobs forward.

He thinks he sees stars. Where the fuck is her goddamn fucking-

“Do you even have a gag reflex?” he asks. His eyes may be rolling back into his head. He may very well be dead.

“Mm-n,” Skye says, which is the most torturous, delightfully painful thing he’s ever felt.

Painful for obvious reasons. Painful because it feels too fucking good.

“Why have you only done this four times?” he asks. Holding her head with both hands. “Why don’t you love me?”

A muffled noise of protest. He gasps without meaning to.

He just needs to-

He needs-

He gazes out to the skyline. Something to keep his focus. Something so that he doesn’t get lost in the tide.

He wants to. He really, really wants to.

But he also wants to be here for a while.

Not if Skye gets tired. But just... as long as she’s willing. It’s quiet. And intimate. And despite his better judgement, he finds it oddly romantic.

He feels a grin coming on. A sigh. And he exhales, deeply, happily-

 

Which is when he sees the red light.

Not in the building across from them. That would be amateur hour.

But about six blocks over. Twenty-seventh floor.

He pauses. He needs to focus. He needs to-

Skye swirls her tongue.

“Oh, shit,” he manages. He could be- It could just be a trick of the light. Just a reflection.

There’s definitely not a gun trained on him. Okay? There’s no reason he needs to cut this short.

He squints. It’s nothing. He’s sure it’s nothing. It’s definitely-

Someone has a gun trained on him.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

They’re only halfway done.

Why not fire? Why wait?

Grant gets the feeling that he’s being watched. Like whoever’s got the gun on him is waiting for Grant to finish before he pulls the trigger.

Sick fuck. Grant would absolutely do the same thing.

But he can’t put Skye in danger.

 

 

Skye hollows her cheeks. Grant writhes without meaning to. She’s- Oh, fuck, she- “Skye,” he manages.

“Mn?”

“I need you to-” Does he need her to? Is it really that urgent? Ugh. Fuck. Fuck. It really is. “Stop. Just- I need you to stop, as subtly as you can. Don’t make any sudden movements.”

She pulls back, slowly. Achingly slow. And he’s going to be unhappy about this for about the rest of his life. If it manages to be longer than the next minute.

“Someone has a gun on me,” he says. “If we move too quickly-”

“Who the fuck has a gun trained on you?”

“I don’t know, Skye,” he snaps. “That’s why I said ‘someone.’”

“God is telling me not to blow you,” Skye says. Just a breath away from his dick. “Obviously.”

“God stopped talking to us years ago,” Grant says. “We need to move. I don’t know if they’re like, waiting for you to finish-”

“That’s polite,” Skye says. “Guessing it’s a dude, then.”

“Probably,” Grant says. “I’m going to flip the chair in front of us, and we need to get out of here.”

“I could finish you, probably,” she says. Plants the smallest of kisses.

He whimpers. “Skye-”

“Yeah,” she says. “Bad luck.”

“On our fucking anniversary,” Grant says. “The nerve.”

“Let’s try to make it to two years,” Skye says. Which is the most romantic thing she’s probably ever said. “On your count?”

“Yeah,” he says. He releases her hair, and it’s the saddest thing he’s ever done. “One. Two-”

 

 

He’s done it too many times. A thousand. People try to shoot him. More than he’d like, really.

It still always feels... slower. He flips the chair, and Skye slides underneath his legs. The gunman, figuring he’s been caught, fires.

The window shatters. Grant reaches for his pants.

“Fuck,” Skye says. “Fuck, where’s your Winchester?”

“Bedroom,” Grant says. “Or Belarus. Haven’t had to use it in a while.”

“Son of a bitch,” Skye says. It’s kinda funny. How she can be so pissed while sprawled out on her stomach.

“Yeah,” Grant says. “We need to get out of here.”

“If you’d just let me do it in the bedroom-”

“Are we really-”

“But you wanted ALL OF MACAU to know-”

“Skye-”

“And so really, we could argue you fucking deserve this-”

“Skye.”

“What?!”

“We need to get out of here,” Grant says. “We’re sitting ducks.”

“If we make it for the doorway,” he says. “We can bolt.

“You got a go bag?” Skye says.

“You know I do,” Grant says.

“I can’t believe it,” Skye says. “Someone put a hit on you, and it’s not even me.”

“Please,” Grant says. “You’re the prime suspect here. I mean, you blow me in front of the windows-”

“Which was your stupid-”

“Knowing that I’d want to be there, but you made it seem like my idea-”

“Stop-”

“And I just happened to notice but-”

“Grant!”

He catches her eye. “What?”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

He somehow manages to smile. Which is just so fucking- So fucking Him and Skye. “Of course not.”

She seems oddly serious. “Good.”

“Baby,” he says. “Kid. Skye. I know you’re not trying to kill me.”

She nods, as best she can with her chin in the carpet. “You better know that.”

“Skye,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“We should run.”

She smacks her lips. “Yep.”

 

 

They’re grabbing their bags and Skye’s loading her brand new gun when she looks at him. “Grant,” she says. “Who’s trying to kill you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve got to have some idea.”

He runs his hand through his hair. “I might.”

“You gonna tell me?” she asks. Snaps the ammo in.

“Not here,” he says. “I need... I need to think.”

“Oh boy,” Skye says. “That could take a while.”

He just rolls his eyes. “We need to get back to the states.”

She tilts her head. “That’s a bad idea.”

“Skye.”

She sighs. “I should call my boss.”

“Yeah,” Grant says. “You probably should.”

“Happy anniversary,” she says, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I think we’ve had worse.”

He wraps his arm around his waist. Bag on. Gun loaded. “Much worse.”

He kisses her. And he needs to know that he’ll be able to do that for a very long time.

But right now-

He’s not so sure.


End file.
